Everything started off smooth Friday morning. Woke up before my alarm sounded. Too a leisurely shower. Threw a few last minute things in my luggage, and headed up the street to catch the bus to Seattle Tacoma International Airport. Except I misjudged the time by a bit. Stepped in to Hines Public Market Coffee to get a latté and turned around to see my bus drive by without stopping. No matter, thought I, the next bus comes in 10 minutes. Only it didn't come. A 70 did come around 20 minutes later though. No matter, thought I, I had twenty minutes after I got downtown to catch the 194. I'll just have to run into the tunnel. The 71 I missed would have taken me directly into the tunnel. I got to the University St. station at 7:24. The 194 was supposed to leave at 7:22. I asked a nice lady standing there if she had seen the 194. She replied, Not yet.
Thank god, thought I. But it was not to be. The nice lady was a charlatan, for the 194 did not come til it's next scheduled time at 7:40. Still, I arrived at the airport at 8:10, met Deborah and we boarded the plane.
At San Francisco International Airport, we picked up our luggage, and then made the trek via the AirTrain
to the rental car center on the edge of the airport. There, we picked up the rented Chrysler Concorde and headed downtown to find the Hotel Triton. The plan was to meet up with Dan and get some food. He would thereafter go pick up my parents at the airport, and Deborah and I would explore the town.
The first part went according to plan. Dan arrived after we got settled into the hotel, and we walked a block up to Sake Bomb for Japanese. I refuse to eat raw fish, but they did talk me into trying a California roll, which supposedly has only cooked elements in it. Mostly I ate chicken and salmon teriyaki.
It was at the restaurant that my stomach started gurgling. I thought it might be the latté I had in the morning. I requested decaffeinated, but perhaps she had given me one with caffeine. Caffeine in quantity will do that do me. My stomach will get upset, and I will get minor diarrhea. I was a little irritated at that point, but willing to struggle through it. Following nap time, Deborah and I cruised Chinatown, which started conveniently across the street from the hotel. My stomach continued to gurgle. I occasionally felt slightly nauseous. Our stroll through Chinatown became a minor chore for me.
Back at the hotel, we prepared to go out. San Francisco doesn't have any dedicated goth or industrial clubs that we could find. However, the monthly Wicked City was Friday night, and Jezebel's Joint was hosting an industrial/EBM night called Reactor4. Only my body ached. My stomach churned. My bowels… well, you get the idea. Still I was determined to go anyway, but after much agonizing and several reminders from Deborah that she would not think the less of me if we bagged our dancing excursion, I caved to the illness. I had some kind of flu bug. Instead, we ate at Café de la Presse in the same building as the hotel, where I ate one (1) crab-stuffed ravioli. It tasted quite good, but I had no appetite and my stomach nearly revolted. And then it was to sleep, a fitful and sweaty sleep, comforted by the soothing noises of the city. I woke up several times, but ultimately got perhaps 10 hours of rest.